


The Companion

by howelleheir



Series: Unfinished Works [14]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, M/M, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22158793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelleheir/pseuds/howelleheir
Summary: Bits and pieces, scraps, scenes, and other unfinished works. Many stop mid-sentence, most never develop a plot. These are all pieces that I started at one point or another and then moved on to another work, another ship, another fandom, or just got too busy to work on anything, so they will likely never be finished, but some of them were fun, and some were even good, so I'm putting them all out there with the disclaimer that they are abandoned WIPs, and unless a particular piece gets a lot of love and re-sparks my interest, I have no intention of coming back to them. Various fandoms and genres, some pieces very porny, some downright objectionable. Tread with care and mind the tags.In this work: The Dominion, reimagined as a dealer of sentient weapons and playthings, offers Dukat a sample of their offerings during his time as Prefect of Bajor.
Relationships: Dukat/Weyoun
Series: Unfinished Works [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594933
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	The Companion

Dukat was asleep when the flash of light bloomed in the distance, as far from Terok Nor as Terok Nor was from the Bajoran sun, but the comm’s shrill chime roused him only minutes later. As Damar told it, a ship of unknown origin had suddenly appeared on their scanners, as if out of thin air, its course taking it directly toward the station.

He stumbled out of bed and dressed hastily, taking the corridor to Ops at a sprint, only slowing just outside the door to catch his breath. Whoever was aboard that ship, he didn't want to make first contact with them winded.

“Sir,” Damar shouted as Dukat crossed the threshold. “The alien ship is hailing us. What are your orders?”

“Answer it.”

The screen showed only static at first, until the station's communications array calibrated to the ship’s signal. Slowly, the image filtered in: the bridge of a ship, staffed by a species Dukat had never seen before -- craggy-faced, tall and broad, each wearing some sort of life-support system comprised of a series of tubes pumping a white liquid. At the center of the image, an individual of another species, almost featureless, wearing a headset that he supposed singled her out as their captain.

He shot a glance at the Constable. There was no mistaking it -- he and the alien captain were of the same species.

“Ah, Prefect,” she said with what Dukat assumed was intended as a smile. Her voice lagged and cut out as his translator struggled to interpret the unfamiliar language. “Forgive the intrusion. I'm sure our sudden appearance was concerning to you. I'm afraid we haven't quite perfected transmitting subspace signals past the anomaly.”

After forty minutes of speaking with the changeling captain, or rather  _ Founder _ as seemed to be her proper title, Dukat’s head was spinning. 

There existed within Cardassian-occupied territory a stable wormhole, which had somehow managed to escape detection, and on the other side, a species of nameless shape-shifters and their vast empire. On the ship they had sent through, which even now was docking at the station, there was some mysterious  _ cargo _ the Founder had alluded to, but wouldn't reveal except in person. Something that she promised would prove valuable to Cardassia and to the occupation.

It was an intriguing proposition, though not so intriguing that Dukat would neglect to bring a rather large security contingent along with him. They escorted him, weapons drawn, onto the ship, where the Founder, with her own contingent, met him. 

“Welcome aboard,” she said. “If you'll follow me, I'd be happy to explain our offer in more detail.”

“Please,” said Dukat.

“The Dominion is not a great producer of goods,” she said as they started down a long corridor into the belly of the ship. “We rely heavily on other powers for equipment, supplies, weapons, and the like. But we still manage to thrive in interstellar trade. Would you like to know how?”

Dukat nodded, exchanging a suspicious glance with Damar. 

“The fusion of goods and service. Simply put, the Dominion exports its people. You've noticed, I'm sure, that I am the only one of my species on this ship? The crew are Jem'Hadar -- they're one of our two main assets. Specially engineered soldiers designed to meet the Dominion's military needs.” As if to punctuate her point, they passed through a wide doorway into a cargo hold, full with rows and rows of pod-like chambers, each just large enough to contain a grown man. “And yours, if you should so choose.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” began Dukat, “but the Cardassian government doesn't hire mercenaries.”

The Founder laughed. “They're not mercenaries. They're weapons. They will answer to your commanders, follow your orders, just like any Cardassian soldier, but their upkeep is minimal.” She produced a vial of whitish fluid. “This is all they require to remain healthy and obedient. One vial, every thirty-six hours. They would make an efficient security force both on Terok Nor and on Bajor.”

Dukat was impressed -- if what the Founder said was true. He had no reason to take her at her word, tempting as the prospect of turning the tide of the occupation was. 

“It’s an interesting proposition,” he said evenly. “In any case I'm not authorized to make that sort of transaction on behalf of the Cardassian government, but I  _ can  _ give my recommendation to Central Command.”

The Founder nodded curtly. She could tell when she had reached an impasse. “Very well,” she said. “We will be in this Quadrant for another nine days. I look forward to hearing from your superiors. But,” -- her voice darkened as she continued -- “I will caution you that other powers may take advantage of our resources. The Bajoran resistance, perhaps?”

Damar bristled visibly at the threat, but Dukat put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We'll take that under advisement.”

Dukat and his men had scarcely been back on the station for a minute when the security alarms rang out.

“What's going on?” he demanded as he walked into ops, but his question was answered as soon as it left his mouth. In the middle of the room, there was a pod, identical to the ones he'd seen on the  _ Tenak'Talar,  _ but smaller, and with a different set of markings across its length.

“It was just beamed in, sir,” said the glinn manning the sensor array. “From the alien ship. They sent a message along with it.”

“Play it.”

The Founder appeared on the viewscreen. “Prefect,” she said, “This specimen can't be sold due to a minor genetic defect. Consider it a gift. This is our  _ second _ major export. Perhaps if your government isn't interested in soldiers, your men will be interested in this.”

Warily, Dukat approached the pod. As he extended a hand to touch its surface -- warm and faintly buzzing -- blue lights in its recesses flashed to life with a low, glassy hum, and the pod pivoted on its base until its length was parallel to the floor.

A voice issued from the pod. “Welcome. Activation of your companion...series: W-59062...serial number: 00037...has been initiated...Default behavioral attributes: Obedience, eighty percent. Affection, ninety-eight percent. Generosity, seventy percent. Modesty, twenty-four percent. Diligence, forty-seven percent. To change these settings or for advanced options, say, 'setup’.”

Dukat and Damar exchanged a glance.  _ Companion, _ it had said. None of the beings on that ship had looked very  _ companionable. _

“Behavioral attributes finalized. Activation complete. Beginning nitrogen conversion cycle.”

There was a long hiss of escaping air. The entire room watched, silent and apprehensive, as the lights on the pod flashed in a slow, steady rhythm. 

“Nitrogen conversion complete. Terminating stasis and beginning wake cycle…”

A panel running the length of the pod receded, releasing a cloud of quickly-dissipating vapor. Dukat took a hesitant step forward. Inside, there was a body wrapped in a thick white mesh. Small, much smaller than the Jem’Hadar. It was breathing.

“Please remove protective wrap.”

The mesh tore away easily, revealing the companion -- naked and ghostly-pale, smooth-featured with long, fan-like ears and coarse black hair. It was difficult for Dukat to discern its sex, assuming it had one.

It opened its eyes, squinting against the light. The irises were wide, and a clear, pale violet. 

“Hello,” it said. Its voice sounded delicate, but more male than female. “Am I yours?”

“It would appear so,” said Dukat, clearing his throat as the companion stood and stepped out of the pod, apparently unconcerned with his own nudity. “Do you have a name?”

“Weyoun,” he said. “But you can call me whatever you like.”

Dukat managed to tear his eyes away for just long enough to notice the uncomfortable stares of all of his officers.

“Damar,” he said, voice tense. “Would you get the blanket from the emergency medical kit?”

“Perhaps you should have changed its 'modesty’ setting,” said Damar. Dukat would have been annoyed if it hadn't broken the tension in the room. 

He took the blanket and wrapped it around Weyoun's waist. His fingers briefly brushed bare skin along the way -- soft, glass-smooth, and warm. Everything about him seemed designed to be pleasing. He leaned into the touch with a low hum.

Dukat beckoned over his aide. “Basso,” he said, “if you wouldn't mind escorting Weyoun to my quarters? He'll need clothes. I'm sure you have something appropriate in your collection.”

Basso looked skeptical, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Dukat felt distracted and distant for the rest of the day. His mind just wasn't on his work. It was on the creature waiting in his quarters, the way he had looked at him, eyes full of devotion and desire from the moment he'd woken up.

Finally, he'd finished the last of his expenditure approvals, reviewed the last of the departmental reports, and responded to the last communication from Central Command, and was free to leave his office and experience the Dominion’s handiwork for himself.

Weyoun was seated by a window in his quarters when he arrived. Basso had outdone himself on the presentation. Weyoun was wearing a wine-colored robe that draped delicately over his shoulders, exposing his long neck and sharp collarbones. There was a subtle dusting of lavender blush on his cheekbones, and his hair had been pinned into an elaborate, half-curled style -- not Bajoran or Cardassian; Dukat suspected Weyoun himself had some input.

“Have you been there all day?” he asked.

Weyoun looked concerned, and perhaps a little afraid. “Was there something you wanted me to do?”

“No,” Dukat soothed, gripping Weyoun's arm -- perhaps a little too hard by the way he flinched. “I just thought you might make yourself a little more at home.”


End file.
